


Make Love, Not War

by GothicWolf03



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Everyone vs. Jacob & Tinkles, Gen, Jacob is all out crazy, Mrs. Tinkles is back, Not really a sequel, XD, and very ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicWolf03/pseuds/GothicWolf03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one had ever imagined in a million years that Jacob would finally have a connection with Mrs. Tinkles. But when it becomes a bit too much for either one of them to handle, his friends all band together to put an end to the craziness. Things might not be as easy as they had originally thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you sphinx81! I would never have thought about continuing with this work if it wasn't for your brilliant comment. It toyed with my head for the past few months; I was literally dying of laughter during every one of my exams from imagining all the possible things I could include in the story. 
> 
> Now that I'm finally out of high school for good, and all the college orientation craziness is put behind me, I can finally share this piece with everyone. Many thanks, Sphinx. This is dedicated to you, sweetheart ;)

“Jacob, I know you did it.”

The British man quirked an eyebrow at the cockney girl, casually setting the newspaper down in front of him so as not to look the least bit suspicious. He tried to focus on the spot above her forehead instead of the glowering eyes that bore into his soul, releasing an awkward cough from the silence following her accusation. “Did what?”

Clara crinkled her nose, arms crossed over her emerald dress. “You know what I'm talking about. I can't find Mrs. Tinkles anywhere. Where is she?”

“Who knows? Probably spitting out another hairball.” The chair squeaked from the sudden rise coming from the taller man as he hastily pushed against the brunette’s back. His head frequently looked back to the other side of the room while maneuvering her across the entryway. “Now, leave me in peace.”

A faint kicking sound against the wooden frame caused both parties to intently stare at the source of the noise, which pinpointed back to the armoire on the opposite side of the quaint room. From afar it was hard to confirm if something was trapped inside the huge furniture, for it barely moved from its place and the pounding noise immediately stopped for a while. However, upon detecting the whining meows following the pregnant pause, the cockney girl firmly planted her black slippers in place and kicked back at the taller man with a firm screech. The tips of her ears turned red after relishing in his strangled cry, dislodging herself from Jacob before sauntering over to the closet.

Reaching in the pocket of her apron, Clara produced a silver hairpin that reflected from the morning light filtering through the window. Without hesitation, the teenage girl inserted the object into the keyhole, recalling Evie’s pick-pocketing lessons whenever the female assassin had time to spare. Once the audible click filled her ears, both hands tightly gripped onto the handle before thrusting the door open.

She gasped when her wide eyes landed on the chubby cat feebly pawing at the various coats that failed to hide its body. Its feet continued to thrash underneath as its large body sagged from the force of gravity weighing it down, the sleeve of one of the coats draped covering almost the entire head. The barmaid inspected the green collar stretching down from the hook, all color drained from her face. Thank goodness Mrs. Tinkles was still alive; if she hadn't noticed her pet missing and came upstairs in time then who knows if the orange feline would've choked itself to a slow, painful death.

Typical Jacob.

“Hold it right there!” The brunette furiously called out as the floorboards creaked, veering around in her spot to find the male assassin frozen in step. “What is this!?”

“Well,” he started, nervously licking his lips. “Oh, there she is! I've been looking everywhere for . . . her . . .”

Seeing the deep frown across her freckled face immediately ceased any excuses from spewing out of his mouth. The room became uncomfortably stuffy from the thick tension, and he didn't know whether Clara would give another one of her infamous cat lectures or chew his head off. From the scarlet color starting to form over her cheeks and the way her knuckles painfully clenched beside her, he figured the latter of the two might happen given how far he went into orchestrating this attempted “murder”.

Though what can he say? The little devil seemed to have a penchant for making his life a living hell. Sure, maybe one of the reasons why the cat might hate him was because he had insulted it quite a few times—among other unmentionable things—though it’s not like cats are the most tolerable pets that appealed to him. He still couldn't understand why Clara seemed to favor the lazy prima donna when she could spend more time with people like him and Evie who risked their lives to save London.

 _Did the vermin ever buy her ice cream?_ He bitterly thought, scowling at the smug bastard who was now situated over the girl’s shoulder. _Or let her stay up late to play with the other children while worrying half to death? I think not._

“You don't know?” She cautioned, adjusting the fur ball in her embrace before marching over to him in heavy stomps. “So, she just magically wound up on the hook all on her own?”

“Well, you know how cats are. They're still light on their feet even if they happen to be fat.”

Mrs. Tinkles hissed at him once the rude comment was out in the open, which caused the British man to bare his white teeth out at the feline until they were having a face-to-face scare off.

Clara huffed, placing herself in front of Jacob before their little competition got out of control. “She isn't fat!”

“She's a balloon! What have you been feeding her?”

“Fish! It’s healthy for her!” she protested, stroking the tuft of soft fur underneath her fingertips. “That’s not the point right now. Just admit that you did this!”

“You can’t prove anything,” he cheekily replied, even petting the top of her head as if she was a simpleton. “All you know, she could've magically hung herself on accident.”

“Oh, and it just so happens that she _magically_ locked the door too?” The cockney girl mocked, instantly swatting his hand away. “I’m not an idiot! The evidence clearly says it all.”

Their loud bickering went on for the next ten minutes while the orange creature comfortably nestled its head closer to Clara’s neck. Yellow eyes tiredly stared into wall out of boredom, turning around so that its delicate ear laid on the shoulder of its owner to block out the raised voices. A low yawn escaped past its gaping mouth, and it wasn't until the stairs creaked from outside did the creature finally leap down from its perch, shuffling out of the room just as a pair of boots revealed itself from the doorway.

Evie blinked at the orange blur crawling down the steps, tilting her head up at the duo heatedly arguing on the other side. If she had to make a wild guess, she figured her brother once again tried to kill the cat and as usual got caught while doing it by the young barmaid—it's all they ever argue about nowadays. “Hey! Stop it this instant!”

“He started it!”

“She started it!”

A painful sensation throbbed inside her skull from listening to their childish remarks, bringing a hand over her forehead to prevent the thick vein from popping. It was bad enough that she had to deal with Jacob’s whines throughout the rest of her life, but combined with Clara’s shouts her patience decreased by a tenfold. It felt as if they all lived in a madhouse ever since Tinkles was rescued by the teenager, already feeling her mind sink into insanity from all the restless nights of hearing them fight downstairs.

She really needed a vacation.

The female assassin wedged her way between the two when they looked ready to resume their quarrel, arms roughly pushing them apart. She peered back and forth at their scrunched up faces, frown lines marring her skin. “I don't care who started it. Henry and I are sick of hearing the same argument for the past three months. Jacob, you're behind on your missions, so get to it. And Clara, the tavern is already packed with people.”

“But—” they both chorused, clamping their mouths shut once the older woman raised her hand.

“I don’t want to hear any more fighting over the cat or else there will be hell to pay.” Her stern gaze rooted the duo in place, pacing around them in a threatening manner to see if either one of them dared to challenge her order. “Do I make myself clear?”

“. . . Yes.”

“Good.” Her shoulders eased up a bit, though she wasn't going to leave until they fully convinced her they were able to manage on their own. “Now, I want no more fighting. Apologize to one another.”

Both parties cringed from the dreaded words; they knew Evie to be scary when she wanted to be, yet they never anticipated for the woman to suddenly command them to forgive one another out of the blue. Deep down they still blamed the other for causing such a scene in the first place, and just thinking about saying the awful phrase left a bitter taste in their mouths. But if it would help make the female assassin leave quicker and avoid her wrath . . .

“Fine,” Jacob heavily exhaled, turning around to face the little imp. “Clara, I'm sorry. I'll . . . I'll try not to kill your _beloved_ pet.”

“And I'm sorry for barging into your room and accusing you for trying to kill Mrs. Tinkles,” she gritted out through clenched teeth, even though the wide smile and twinkling brown eyes conveyed an entirely different message. “Let's never fight again.”

“Let's.”

Evie gave an appreciative nod, snickering to herself while witnessing their crushing hug fest. She wasn't dumb enough to actually fall for their little charade; it actually gave her a sense of satisfaction from knowing how they desperately tried to please her and make things right. Taking notice of the strained smiles and constricting arms wrapped around each other, her moment would have to be short-lived unless they decided to pass out onto the floor.

“Well, everything seems to be taken care of up here,” she smoothly replied. “I'll be off.”

None of them bothered sharing their sentiments, instead patiently waiting until the back of the woman’s attire disappeared from view. Once the sound of her footsteps further receded into the boisterous background of merriment did they automatically separate from one another with resentful glares.

“Don't expect this to be over,” he warned. “I mean it, the next time she decides to invade my privacy I won't be so forgiving.”

Clara scoffed. “You call hanging a cat by the collar forgiving? I highly doubt that.”

“Fine, then I'll shoot a bullet through her skull.”

“You wouldn't!”

And so the duo proceeded with yet another one of their debates while their friends down below tuned out to the angry shouts that almost brought the whole ceiling to collapse.

* * *

 

_Why am I the one always in trouble?_

The streets of London were flooded with children running down the block, some of them managing to accidentally bump into the sulking man. Flyers were pried off from the walls as they flew into the sky, crumpling together when the wayward wind decided to change course. Grey clouds loomed above the city, blocking out all sunlight attempting to penetrate through the soft masses.

The depressing weather greatly matched with the sour mood plaguing Jacob’s thoughts. His shoulders slumped a bit as he walked, the top hat grazing his dark lashes to effectively hide the flaring eyes scorching the sidewalk. No words of acknowledgment came out of his mouth whenever people curiously glanced his way, focusing on the never ending concrete pattern and even kicking at a few pebbles here and there.

Despite Evie’s declaration, all thoughts of ever trying to call a truce with the orange hellfire ceased when he woke up this morning. The sun wasn't even peeking from the horizon when war began, remembering the feel of his ripped sheets decorated with holes underneath his calloused hands. One day that cat will pay, he vowed before brushing aside any ill intent to catch up on his missions. But no matter how hard he tried, images of Tinkles’ smug face tempted his hand.

He longed to skin the vermin.

“Not before I get the job done,” he reminded himself. “Can't believe I wasted all this time getting after the cat when I could've done my missions. What was I supposed to do today?”

_Ah, that's right. Track down a killer working for the other order._

After wasting two hours surveying through the alleyways and shops, the British man wanted to call it quits. Nothing seemed to go according to plan when it concerned him; the endless talk with the folks and eavesdropping into criminals’ conversations never once hinted towards his target. Maybe his day would have changed for the better if he had started the morning by filling his belly with good ale. Not many people were too keen on consuming alcohol at such an early hour, though he really needed to stimulate his mind from all the doom and gloom surrounding him.

Given the location he was in, the Seven Bells tavern was only a block or two away. A relieved smile formed across his chiseled face once the sign to the tavern showed through the gap between the buildings, increasing in his steps. _Hopefully Clara isn't serving today. Really could use the peace and quiet._

If Jacob had really kept a better eye on his environment, he would have been able to spot the shaded man leaning against the wall of a random shop who eyed his every movement. The footsteps belonging to the unknown stranger were also lost to the male assassin due to all the carriages rolling down the streets, each step getting closer and closer to the unsuspecting man. A flinty knife retracted from within his coat, a crooked smile showing from underneath the shadows as the criminal finally stopped just behind Jacob.

“Finally!” The younger twin stretched his arms on both sides, a wide grin settling upon his face. “Now then, I'll just—”

A shrill cry resounded from above, snapping both of their attentions to the falling blob hurtling towards the convict at full speed. The knife clattered onto the cobblestones, which fully directed the people’s attention onto the violent display occurring just before their eyes. Screams were shouted out into the open air, one by one the citizens fleeing from the scene to call for the police.

Meanwhile, Jacob stood there stunned by the turn of events; he had come for some ale, not realizing someone was following him, and then suddenly Mrs. Tinkles comes to his rescue by belly-flopping on top of the stranger. Even as he mentally said it in his head, it didn't take away the shocked surprise clearly taking over him as he trailed up the building to the open window on the second floor.

_She saved me? What reality did I just step in?_

“Stop, stop!” The man muffled underneath the chubby cat, panting heavily once he was able to pry the feline off of him. He cringed from the sharp claws attempting to paw at his scarred skin, dodging every one of Mrs. Tinkles’ assault.

Jacob tsked, roughly grabbing onto the man’s collar as he hoisted him up like a rag doll while the feline calmly stepped back. “Sorry old chap, but it seems my accomplice and I just can't let you off with a warning.”

“Please! I-I promise I won't ever come back ‘ere again!”

The male assassin nodded off to his words, yanking onto the man’s coat where he could visibly distinguish the sewn-in name tag across the collar. “Wesley? Quite a name you got there, for a low-life scum. And lucky me, you're entire name perfectly fits my kill list! Many thanks for making my job a whole lot easier.”

Before the target had time to protest, the steel from the hidden blade was already lodged through his throat. The body slumped over the younger twin’s back, eyes wide open and openly gawking at the productivity of London. A trail of blood streamed down from the dead man’s mouth, which in turn stained the black trench coat.

“Oh well,” he nonchalantly replied, shoving the carcass into a random carriage parked by the side of the building. After firmly locking the door, he turned around to stare at the feline who jumped onto the driver seat. “Uh . . .”

Mrs. Tinkles blinked, tilting her head at the human as if looking at him for the first time despite their messy history.

“Right, this is not strange at all,” Jacob sarcastically muttered. “Can't believe I would ever say this to you, but . . . thanks.”

He could've sworn the little fur ball was smiling in amusement, for the corners of its mouth twitched a fraction of an inch. His arms unconsciously reached out in front of him as the chubby cat leaped into his embrace, stumbling a bit from the weight. Closing his eyes, Jacob prepared himself for the sharp talons to dig into his flesh, and he jumped from the sand-paper texture lathering across his cheek.

Wait, what?

“Ha, ha, stop that!” Tears prickled in his closed eyelids, laughing from the onslaught of the cat’s affectionate gesture laid onto him. He would never have imagined _this_ to ever happen in his life, though the feeling wasn't at all unpleasant. “Oh, you little rascal! Alright, that's enough!”

Mrs. Tinkles gave a soft purr, nestling closer to his broad chest. The long tail coiled around its body, lightly touching the man’s forearm in comfort.

Jacob caressed the soft fur with a smile, cooing meaningless words to the content creature. However, he let out a sharp gasp from noticing the blood-stained mess on his attire, a scowl instantly taking effect. “Dammit, I must look like a mess! So sorry you had to witness that. Let's head back inside and wash off. How does that sound, my little pumpkin?”

The cat only purred louder, even giving a meow to add onto its confirmation.

“Ah, I can tell this will be the start of a beautiful friendship!”


	2. Chapter 2

The stairs heavily groaned underneath a pair of black slippers, a disgruntled sound emitting from the young girl who climbed up the winding steps. In the palm of her hands was a simple white plate filled with tiny fish parts, the strong odor wafting throughout the corridor. As she came close to her destination, her free hand lightly rapped onto the wooden barrier before waiting a few seconds for any signs of life signaling from the other side.

“Mrs. Tinkles?” Clara softly whispered, slowly moving into her bedroom so as not to wake the cat. “I brought you a small snack.”

Her chocolate eyes stared disbelievingly at the empty bundle of blankets in the far corner of the room, the panic immediately settling in. Placing the dish on top of the vanity situated on her left side, the brunette hunched down on all fours to check underneath her bed with rapt attention. When the creature refused to make its presence known, she stood up to better survey any more hiding spaces big enough to house a fat cat.

Where could she be?

 _Strange,_ Clara’s eyebrows furrowed together, tapping her chin in contemplation. _Mrs. Tinkles rarely leaves my room._

Upon looking at the fish bits next to her, Clara couldn’t help but feel guilty for bringing such small scraps of food for her pet. Never in her life had she ever brought such a depressing size; the barmaid is always prepared in restocking her supplies for busy days such as today that way the orange feline always had something to eat. Despite the multitude of customers ordering meals that included fish, there should have been a lot left over from today’s bustle of activity. Is someone stealing her resources, or did she make a harmless error when ordering more inventory for the tavern?

“Clara?”

The cockney girl pivoted around in her spot, brightly smiling at the young boy venturing up the steps. “Hello, Waylon. Busy day with your lessons?”

“Um, actually . . .” Waylon shyly shuffled his feet, clasping his arms behind his back while regarding his best friend. “Boss never showed. I-I didn’t know where else to go, so I figured I’d stop by to see you.”

“Really?” The brunette motioned for him to follow, all the while pondering over his words with confusion. “I know Jacob can break his promises at times, but you have showed up here for the fifth time this week. Not that I don’t enjoy your company.”

“O-oh,” he stuttered, a faint scarlet spreading across his cheeks.

“And Charlotte?” she inquired. “I know she secretly teaches you whenever Jacob is mysteriously missing—slacking off as I like to call it.”

His chestnut locks swayed along to the motion of his head. “She’s in Spain with her cousin. Won’t be back for—”

The conversation immediately died down as their ears perked up to the laughing sound coming from Jacob’s quarters. Both children gave each other knowing glances, cautiously standing in front of the door and pressing their ears against the surface. All was quiet on the other side, and they wondered if what they had heard was a figment of their imagination. It was very uncommon for the male assassin to suddenly go into a fit of hysterics without saying a joke of some kind, and even if he made one there needed to be another person around him. However, all they were able to detect was his voice and no one else’s, making the doubts inside of them surface.

“Wait, did you hear that?” Clara pressed her body flat against the door until her nose was practically smushed. She brushed her braid aside, firmly cupping her ear to better perceive the sound.

“Hear what?”

“I thought I heard Mrs. Tinkles . . .” Realization dawned onto the thirteen year old, anxiously jumping back as if she had touched something quite contagious. “He has my cat! He’s going to kill her!”

Meanwhile, inside the clean room stood the British man with his arms holding the chubby feline. His pursed lips produced a bunch of baby names followed by kissing sounds, toying with the cat’s tiny paw from time to time. A deep chuckle rumbled within his chest from the vibrating purr against him, playfully stroking its luscious coat until their tender moment was interrupted by the door slamming off its hinges.

Jacob calmly turned around as if the intrusion didn’t bother him, finding the two children openly gaping at him and Mrs. Tinkles. Instead of losing his temper from their trespassing, a welcoming smile stretched across his face as he stepped closer to them. “Seems we have guests, my little pumpkin.”

Clara blinked. “Pumpkin? What kind of ridiculous name is that? And what the devil are you doing with my cat!?”

“We were just having a bit of fun, no harm done,” he reassured her, bopping the cat’s pink nose as the creature licked his finger. “Feel free to step into our humble abode.”

“Our?” Waylon echoed, horrifically staring at the frilly mess taking up a good one-fourth of the room. “Oh, that’s what he meant . . .”

Across from them was a castle bed that was big enough for Mrs. Tinkles to not only sleep in but also roam around the set using its various platforms. White lace trims decorated the roof part of the expansive bed, and protruding from the balcony was a small slide spiraling down to the plank floor vacated in colorful pillows feasible for a soft landing. Even the wallpaper bordering the side of the room was floral and pink, replacing the standard dark red and brown tone found in all rooms on the upper floor.

How was he able to purchase all of these?

No words were uttered as the young friends examined the newer section of the room, mouths hanging wide open and eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. This whimsical setup appeared to belong to that of a ten-year old girl who dreamed of princesses and princes, most certainly not for a grown man whose life revolved around assassinating people. Snapping out of their daze, Waylon and Clara finally faced the duo who coddled one another in affectionate kisses and endearing hugs.

“So,” Jacob started after composing himself, setting Mrs. Tinkles down on the plush cushion of the castle bed. “What do you think?”

“What do I think!?” Clara rubbed the sides of her temple, fully convincing herself that this was all one horrible nightmare. “This is complete madness! I thought you hated Mrs. Tinkles!”

“I did, but turns out she’s not half bad. Saved my life today while I was on my mission.”

“Okay, but—” She took a deep whiff at the air around them, automatically covering her nose and acknowledging the big pile of fish casually rotting away on the bed. “ _You_!? You stole all of my fish?”

“Borrowed,” Jacob clarified, grabbing one of the treats and throwing it in Mrs. Tinkles’ direction. A proud gasp filled the air once the orange feline skillfully caught the dead animal between its pointy teeth. “That’s my princess!”

An uneasy feeling pooled in the deepest pit of her stomach, swallowing back the bile peaking on her tongue. It had always been a dream of hers for the older man and the cat to get along, for the constant yelling and attempted cat murders got on her last nerve. Although, when that day had finally arrived she didn’t know what to expect. This was all new, yet very weird for all of them considering Jacob’s attitude made a complete transformation, something that she didn’t think would result from the newly formed friendship.

And Mrs. Tinkles was actually _enjoying_ his company!

She didn’t know if she preferred this bizarre relationship. To be honest, just watching the creature taking in all of Jacob’s praises made her feel left out. Jacob wasn’t the one who had rescued it from the streets out in the pouring rain, nor was he the one to nurse the dirty feline back to health. All of that had been her doing because she felt a kinship with the cat, hoping to have an animal friend of her own.

 _But apparently she would rather be with him._ She stared at the extravagant bed and the generous bounty of fish, hiding her own plate from the duo as her skin flushed in embarrassment. _Clearly she likes the attention he’s been giving her._

“Uh boss,” Waylon piped in from behind, snapping the brunette from her morose thoughts. “You forgot our lesson today.”

“Oh.” The male assassin frowned from the news, tossing another fish in the cat’s direction. “I’m sorry, I guess the time got away from me. Tomorrow, I promise.”

How many meaningless promises will he make?

“Jacob, I think I should take Mrs. Tinkles back,” Clara offered, taking notice of the violet colors beyond the window. The sooner she can separate the two the better it would be for all of them to take a moment away from this event. “It’s time for bed. Come on, Mrs. Tinkles.”

The cat glowered in her direction, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise from the threatening message. If she didn’t know any better, she figured her own pet was purposefully defying her orders, and Mrs. Tinkles had not once ever dared to question her authority. Where was the sweet little fur ball who would always stay by her side no matter the costs?

A wave of relief washed over her when the creature begrudgingly trotted towards the brunette, its tail proudly swishing back and forth. The heart-stricken expression on Jacob’s face didn’t go unnoticed by the teenager, though she reasoned that a little time apart would do them some good. Maybe this was just a phase; she wouldn’t believe that Jacob would behave so spontaneous just for a cat, and that her own cat would ever come to hate her after becoming better acquainted with Jacob.

Right?

* * *

“Thank you all for coming. I'm sure everyone has an idea as to why we're all here?”

The sign on the Seven Bells tavern flipped around until the nearly written word “CLOSED” was facing the outside world. Several hands shoved the curtains aside to allow more light to penetrate past the glass windows. Chairs were placed upside-down on top of each table including the bar area, although one table remained occupied with three silhouettes taking a seat in their respective spots.

Henry helped put all of the clean mugs back where they belong before joining his friends.“If it's about Jacob, then I know exactly why we're here.”

Clara nodded. “Good. So we all agree that Jacob’s relationship with Mrs. Tinkles is a bit overbearing?”

“Actually,” Evie briefly raised her hand, scooting closer to the edge. “I don't see why it's a problem. Thanks to Tinkles—whatever she did—Jacob has become more responsible with his missions. I've received his monthly log report and he's already ahead on his assignments. His room is also a lot neater than the usual mess. Why would their relationship be a bad thing?”

“It may not sound bad, but boss hasn't been spending time with the Rooks.” Waylon brushed aside the accumulated sweat from the day’s labor, taking off his newsboy hat to take away some of the humidity.

“I have to agree with Waylon.” Henry sheepishly smiled at Evie, who had given him an incredulous look. “Jacob is too absorbed with the cat. It's like the only person, or should I say animal, that he cares about is Mrs. Tinkles. Besides missions, when was the last time he left his room?”

“I know the feeling,” the barmaid sadly whispered. “Mrs. Tinkles barely comes near me now that she has him treating her like the bloody queen.”

“So, what should we do?”

Everyone looked at one another as if expecting the other to formulate a master plan to fix their fellow comrade. Given the situation, none of them wanted to do something drastic that would severely harm either Jacob or Mrs. Tinkles. All they hoped to accomplish was revert things back to the way it used to be, but in order to do that they would have to make sure one of them got bored of the other. The only thing they needed to agree on was how to execute said plan.

“Oh!” The young boy snapped his fingers to draw everyone’s attention. “How about sabotage? It's like Jacob always told me; cut off the resources, and you weaken the leader.”

“Excellent.” Henry rolled out a parchment paper and a pen, wringing the elongated object to make sure all the ink settled at the tip. “Evie, it would be helpful if you can ruin some of Jacob’s personal belongings. It would be easier to frame the cat for going near his stuff than the other way around.”

“Maybe, but I still don't see why this is all necessary. I mean really, how bad can it be?”

At that moment the door to the tavern flew open, the shadows moving away from the larger body coming near the gang. All eyes were on the mysterious stranger who interrupted their scheme, and upon examining the face revealed from the sun did they release simultaneous gasps.

“Oh . . . Wow . . .” The barmaid dumbly spat out between breaks, rubbing at her eyelids. “I think I went blind.”

“Well, I stand corrected.” A bitter taste lingered in the woman’s mouth, not liking the effect those words had on her. “Jacob, what did you do?”

The younger twin flaunted the vibrant orange and red assassin attire, his hazel orbs gleaming with satisfaction. “I thought my original outfit seemed dull, so I decided to liven things up.”

Waylon slowly leaned across the table, lowering his voice so his boss wouldn't overhear. “Does anyone think the colors are exactly like Mrs. Tinkles’ fur?”

The female assassin exasperatedly sighed, finally recognizing the full extent of what they would be dealing with. “Brother, have you forgotten all about our training? How are you supposed to blend in?”

He shrugged. “Easy. In the markets.”

“Alright, but there aren't markets spread across London for our convenience. Drawing forth attention means compromising the brotherhood.”

“Oh, you worry too much dear sister!” Jacob incessantly patted the crown of her head as if she was a child, gliding across the area until he was near the stairs. “Hate to cut the conversation short, but I'm needed elsewhere.”

They waited until the male assassin was no longer in sight as he went upstairs to probably see his cat friend, bringing out the list they had hidden from his prying eyes. Judging from the upgrade in Jacob’s outfit, they would have to act fast if they ever wanted to break the British man out of whatever stupor he was stuck in. Before they know it, he would eventually turn into Mrs. Tinkles himself if it meant growing a tail and ears or imitating the lazy cat attitude.

They won't stand for it.

The pen dropped on top of the scribbled paper, slightly rolling down the middle before making a stop. Black smudges formed on the corners of the page due to the moist ink that was smudged by the pen. After drying the paper and taking away all the wrinkles, the four friends assessed their creation one last time before peering at one another with wicked grins.

“This is brilliant!” Clara inspected every detail of their plan, feeling more excited than ever. “One of these ideas has to work to our advantage. We won't stop until those two are at each other's throats. Alright, let's get down to business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, wonder what's in store for Jacob and Tinkles ;)


	3. Chapter 3

“Clara!” Waylon barged inside the bedroom in complete disarray, trying to regain his bearings from the gigantic sack weighing above him. “I just saw boss coming in through the front door. I told the Rooks to stall him.”

“What?” She set the alley cat down by the foot of the bed, motioning for him to shut the door after the bag was tossed onto the ground. “He's early. Guess Evie wasn't kidding when she said he takes more responsibility on his missions. And Mrs. Tinkles?”

“I put her in your room for the time being.”

The young girl nodded, ripping off the seal until the black soot was revealed to her chocolate eyes. The bounty was a bit more than they needed, and if Jacob ever saw the bag then they weren't sure if they could concoct any plausible explanations as to why they would need soot. With a firm push against the bulging bag, the shining floorboards were instantly stained in filth, a small pile forming from the charcoal stream.

“Grab the cat,” she instructed, lifting the object back up before going over to the window to toss the evidence away in the alleyway. Once the deed was done, Clara walked over to the pile with a wavering gaze. “Hm, seems a bit too much. I'll see if I can pick up some of the soot.”

A broom and a rusty pail casually rested against the far corner next to the coat hanger, and she thanked Jacob for suddenly becoming a neat freak. Her tiny hands rapidly swayed the long broom back and forth, making sure all the excess soot flowed into the bucket. She gave a relieved sigh once everything fit inside, once again ridding the garbage out the window.

“There we go.” The young boy chirped from the other side, pressing the creature’s paws onto the pile. Once the dirt coated the cat all the way to its ankles, he moved the animal to and fro until the feline grew accustomed to messing around in the filth. “Alright, go wild!”

On cue, the grey alley cat pounced across the floor at break-neck speed that it was almost impossible for them to keep track on its next location. Black paw prints scattered around the area from the queen-sized bed to the vanity mirror. Both children happily looked at one another with accomplished smiles, their grins widening when the luxurious castle bed belonging to Mrs. Tinkles was also submerged in layers of filth.

“This is perfect! Now to get our culprit.” The barmaid quickly retreated back to her room where the fat cat eyed her in boredom from the bundle of blankets. Ignoring the creature's protest, her arms looped around its belly as she forcibly hoisted her chubby companion closer to her chest.

A deep growl filled the rim of her ears, though Clara wasn't going to foil their plans just because the fur ball refused to be around her anymore. _Honestly, it's like she thinks I'll kill her or something._

The cat's aloofness was the sole reason why Clara didn't want to use Mrs. Tinkles to dirty Jacob's room. Their task would have been easier that way, although the creature would never once in her life go near anything that was even remotely dirty. It was pretty ironic considering most cats prefer digging through trash for scraps, but since Tinkles had everything she desired at the wave of her paw dirt and grim didn't appeal to her.

While going through the narrow corridor, the heavy stomps from below the ground level didn't go unnoticed by the brunette. Her erratic heartbeat kept interfering with her train of thought, and if it wasn't for Tinkles’ meow she would've been easily caught red-handed by the intruder. She knew those stomps anywhere . . .

“He's coming!” She hissed to the brown-haired boy, immediately putting Mrs. Tinkles on top of the soot much to the cat’s displeasure. “Quick, get rid of the cat!”

“On it!”

Sweat beaded down her forehead from the muttered curse following the loud bump, glancing between the shadowed hallway and the tom cat that managed to jump out of the window in time. Her fingers unclenched beside her, sending secret signals to her friend before the British man stepped inside his home.

“Jacob!” The children abruptly tackled into the taller man, plastering on horrific expressions they practiced over thirty minutes ago. “Look what she did!”

But the male assassin didn't bother acknowledging their statements, brushing past them so he could better focus on the markings across the floor and walls. A strained cry flew past his lips, trembling hands dramatically motioning towards the castle bed. “What the hell happened in here!? That was _not_ cheap!”

“We saw her do it,” Waylon lied, preventing himself from staring at the floor in shame when Jacob veered towards him with flaring nostrils. “See, her paws are even dirty.”

Mrs. Tinkles narrowed her yellow orbs at the children, a dangerous gleam shining in one of her eyes after finally comprehending their sabotage.

“Hang on . . .” The younger twin inspected the paw prints trailing around the room, falling onto the floor until his belly practically kissed the ground. A lone finger swiped at the black specks, fiddling the mess around before focusing on the print. “This is too small. My little pumpkin has bigger paws than this rubbish. And who left the window wide open!?”

Clara cringed from the rough slam, almost expecting for the glass to break by the brute force. Dammit, if she had paid attention to that minor detail then their plan could have gone foolproof. Now they were really in for it.

Jacob heavily inhaled, unconsciously nodding to himself as his eyes roamed over every inch of the damaged room. “I see what's going on here.”

“Y-you do?” Clara peered in Waylon’s direction, placing a hand over his arm to stop him from going forward to confess.

“Yes,” he whispered, digging through the drawers of the chest. “I clearly left the window wide open, and some street mongrel thought it was okay to spread its filth all over Tinkles’ stuff. Forgive me, pumpkin. We’ll clean everything up right away!”

The children blinked in astonishment, not anticipating for him to not suspect them for ruining the bedroom—they had been in his room the entire time. No sounds were emitted from their mouths as they watched Jacob procure four brushes and place each on Mrs. Tinkles’ feet. Things began to be a bit too much for them to handle after the British man came rushing back into the room to pour the soapy water all over the place, backing out into the hallway as Jacob scrubbed everything clean while Tinkles slid across the threshold.

“So, I guess this means our plan failed,” Waylon sadly replied. “I was sure it would—Clara?”

“Don't ask,” the cockney girl warned, her braids cascading over her shoulders once her head was properly situated over the sill. She met the boy's gaze, calmly handing him the door. “Just shove it as hard as you can.”

* * *

“I just heard word from the children. Now it's up to us.” Henry cautiously stepped into the bathroom, waiting by the open doorway as he listened to the woman’s angry huffs. “Evie?”

“That no good cat!” Her bare hands lifted the cape to his eye level, the freckles on her face accentuated by the deep red coloring across her nose. “Do you see this!?”

The brown blotch took over the middle portion of the satin fabric; it was so large that the Indian man couldn't distinguish the assassin insignia underneath the mess. He didn't know if he should say something, for the brunette instantly returned to her task without offering him the chance to speak. Not that he minded; it was rare for Evie to become deeply upset over something unless her brother was involved, but when she was upset he made sure to stay clear of her reckoning.

“I take it Mrs. Tinkles found a new kitty litter?” He offered with the light twitch of his mouth, which instantly turned down from the annoyed look on her face. “Too soon?”

Evie sighed. “Sorry. I shouldn't be mad at you when in reality I'm more enraged at the no good cat. Do you feel like she might know something about us trying to keep her away from Jacob?”

“It's just a cat. Not like she can say anything to him about it.”

“I know, but I read somewhere that animals are a good judge of character.” Her knuckles roughly used the ends of her cape to scrape at the disgusting blob, trying hard to keep her skin away from the area. “It's like they can sense when someone is going to do them harm.”

A soft chime vacated throughout the kitchen, causing both assassins to jump from the intrusion. Their heads wildly scanned the entire room to search for the source of the noise, though all they found were unwashed dishes and stored food. As they were beginning to resume to their normal routine, the chime came back a second time though this time louder and more persistent than ever.

Their faces paled at the sight of Mrs. Tinkles wearing a bell strapped to the collar, no doubt Jacob’s idea after what happened upstairs. Just being alone with the feline, especially when her tail proudly swished in the air and her eyes accused them for some misdeed, left them immobilized. If she was in here, then where was Jacob?

“You see the cat too?” Henry whispered, taking a step forward so he could reach for a fish. He stilled from the low growl, retracting his hand away while never once taking his eyes off of the orange feline.

“That's it!” Evie shoved the cape back inside the washbin, slowly rising from her spot so she wouldn't slip over the wet tiles. “I was wrong before. I want her out of here!”

Pots and pans were shoved aside as the creature dodged every one of their attacks. The floor was a huge mess from all the fruits and vegetables laid out on the countertop, juices squirting over the cracks from the dark boots crunching over them. Screams and shouts echoed throughout the massive room as both assassins tried battling through the mess to reach the cat.

“Ha!” Evie gripped onto the edge of the table, causing the cat to arch its spine. Her arm snatched out towards its tail, fisting the wooden surface when all she felt was air. “Dammit! Henry, in front of you!”

The Indian man halted in place, staring at the chunk of watermelon on the table to the frying pan on the floor. An idea wormed its way into his mind when the creature ran towards the pan, pulling onto the frilly tablecloth until the fruit precariously rolled off the edge. In matter of seconds the cat was sent flying into the air with a shrill cry, giving him the opportunity to go underneath the anticipated place where the creature will land.

“I got her!” they chorused at the same time, realizing too late that the other was already making a grab for Mrs. Tinkles. Their eyes widened in horror as they couldn't stop their legs, roughly colliding into one another before falling back in a tangled mess.

Water sloshed outside the large basin as the two silhouettes thrashed in the soak suds. Evie was the first to come up, her soaked locks coming undone from its usual crowned bun and her boots extending out of the rim. Turning her head around, she scooted a bit upward so that the man underneath would come up for breath.

She giggled at the red cape covering the left side of his face. “Henry, my cape is . . .”

“I've noticed.” He flicked the object onto the floor in disgust, letting her remove herself from him. His hands immediately held onto Evie’s waist when she almost tipped off the large basin, though he accidentally brought her back down in the water with him due to the forceful tug. “My apologies. I-I was just trying to—”

“Hey, have you guys seen—”

An awkward silence befell upon the three adults, one of them gawking at the other two who appeared to be frolicking in the water in his point of view. The room was a total disaster with rotten food spread over the once clean floor, and the kitchen tools weren't even in the right places. The ticking noise from the clock mantle wasn't enough to set the atmosphere back to the way it used to be, rather increasing the intense friction among the friends.

Jacob gave a short, dry cough while averting his eyes away from the scene. “Well, seems you two were . . . Busy. If you wanted some alone time, you could've asked.”

“You've got to be kidding me!” Evie spurted out water from her mouth, wiping at her tongue. “God, this soap tastes awful!”

Henry patted her back when she started coughing uncontrollably, taking her elbow before getting them both out of the washbin. “What your sister meant is that none of this would've happened if Mrs. Tinkles didn't come to cause havoc. She made a mess on Evie’s cape.”

“What? You're lying.” His hazel orbs lit up upon landing on the orange cat, successfully catching the chubby feline. “My little pumpkin is a princess. She doesn't use the loo like a common ruffian.”

“Then explain this!” The female assassin thrusted her red cape in her brother’s face, glaring at the cat held protectively in his arms. “You need to control your _princess_.”

The British man stroked the cat’s fur in comfort, inching closer to his older sister. “She isn't the one that needs a proper behavior adjustment. You could learn a thing or two from her.”

“Why you—”

“Great, you made us skip the carriage ride in the park,” he interrupted, noticing the big hand of the clock on the ten. “Hope you're happy. Come on, Tinkles. We better retire to bed early for tomorrow’s mission.”

Both friends knowingly eyed one another in disbelief, and when Jacob made a beeline out of the kitchen they couldn't help but shudder at the slit black pupils promising of worser things to come.


End file.
